


We Still Have Tonight

by ds9trekkie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Case Fic, Crack, Cunnilingus, Dean Hates Himself, Dean Hates Witches, Dean's going to hell, Dirty Talk, F/F, Face-Sitting, Family, Feels, Female Dean, Female Sam, Fluff, Genderswap, Incest, Incest Kink, Lesbian Sex, Love, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, One Shot, Oral Sex, Parallels, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Scissoring, Smut, Spells & Enchantments, Vaginal Fingering, Wincest - Freeform, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ds9trekkie/pseuds/ds9trekkie
Summary: Sam and Dean experience lovin' from a very different perspective. Witches, lesbian sex, and all the feels.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wayward_Daughter_16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Daughter_16/gifts).



> Takes place sometime in season 3. I can't tell if this is supposed to be serious or crackish or fluffy or angsty, it's kind of everything lol I'm a mess, enjoy! 
> 
> P. S. I kinda made up my own witchy lore.

Dean coughs and sputters, his lungs filling up with a poisonous gas that's slowly making him lose consciousness.

"Sa-Sammy!" Dean calls frantically, his voice hoarse from the burning smoke. Blindly, he reaches around the cold tile floor for his brother. He needs to make sure Sam is okay, prepared to use the last ounces of his strength to drag his brother to safety.

"Dean, Dean...De..." Sam trails off. He sounds sleepy, already much more infected than Dean.

Desperately squinting through the smog, Dean sees the outline of his brother, laying limp on his back. Dean crawls, but his body won't go any further. Collapsing into his stomach, he attempts to grab Sam's outstretched hand, missing the mark by a few centimeters. Everything goes black.

~

_Pain._

That's what wakes him. Dean feels like he just spent ten hours at the gym, his entire body _sore as fuck._ He's afraid to open his eyes because even his eyelids hurt. He remembers they were hunting a witch and tracked her to her home. Before they could gank her, she gassed them with some of her disgusting witchiness. Then they passed out. 

Sammy needs him.

Dean reluctantly peels his eyes open, instinct leading him to his target. His vision is still a little blurry, but Sammy doesn't look right. Too small--are those boobs?

"Sam?" he tries, woah-- his voice is fucked up, way too high. He clears his throat and shakes his head. Weird, must be a symptom of the gas or something. Dean stares at the chick laying where his brother should be. A chick that happens to be wearing Sam's clothes...

The girl opens her eyes and sits up, finding Dean's instantly. She looks petrified, ready to fight if necessary. Dean's stomach suddenly drops because he _knows_ those eyes. If there's one thing left in this fucked up world that grounds Dean, it's Sammy's eyes. The color, the shape, the soul behind them, there's no question that this girl is his brother. 

What. The. Fuck.

Dean shifts into a sitting position and watches chick Sammy look him up and down. Her--his? His. _His_ eyes land on the amulet around Dean's neck, his mouth forming into a small 'o'.

"Dean?" Sam squeaks, his hand slapping comically over his mouth when he hears his new voice.

Upon sitting up, Dean's stomach does yet another summersault. Maybe Sam's not just staring at the amulet. His chest does feel a little heavier, his clothes a little baggier. 

Dean bites the bullet and pulls the front of his t-shirt forward so he can peek beneath it. Holy fucking _tits!_ Dean can't help but smirk at the fact that he's got a nice rack. Quickly, he forces himself back to reality, he's a goddamn _girl_ and they should probably fix that.

Sam is mirroring Dean, checking out his own chest in shock. Taking a deep breath, Sam moves onto his hair. Both hands flying into it, he combs through it's entire length. The long, shiny, brown locks go all the way down to his lower back.

Dean snickers at Sam's ridiculous hair, "Doesn't look much different to me, Rapunzel." Dean immediately cringes at the sound of his voice. He'll never get used to that.

"This isn't funny, Dean!" Sam bitches, standing up and tightening the buckle on his belt. It doesn't help at all, everything is still way too big on him, shoes included. 

Sam inspires Dean to sift through his own hair. It's still really short, like only a couple inches longer. Dean gets to his feet as well, gawking at Sam and simply thinking.

He should call Bobby.

A horrifying thought just occurs to him. "Oh my god..." Dean trails off, palming the spot where his cock should be. "My dick. Sammy, my dick is gone..." Dean's first impulse is to cry, then he wants to laugh. He feels crazy. His hormones must be out of whack too. He should call Bobby _now._

"No shit, Dean!" Sam pouts, gathering up their scattered weapons and preparing to leave.

Dean pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through for Bobby's number, all the while trying not to notice how delicate and petite his hands look while doing it.

~

Thank the universe for Bobby Singer. Dean feels a lot calmer after talking to him. At first, it takes some major convincing on Dean's part to get Bobby to believe that it's actually him.

Bobby instructed them to 'borrow' some clothes from the witch in question and then proceed to wait at the nearest motel. In the meantime, Bobby is going to do some research. Everything's fine.

Dean hates the idea of wearing this evil bitch's clothing, but logic has to win sometimes. He can barely walk in these gigantic clothes, let alone drive Baby in these shoes. Walking _at all_ is a challenge now anyway. His legs and feet feel clumsy, like a baby, he has to relearn. 

They make it upstairs to her bedroom and the first thing Dean does is bolt for the mirror. He takes in the image of his face. This is too fucking weird. He's _him,_ just more feminine. Dean chuckles to himself because he realizes he's attracted to himself, he makes a really hot girl. 

Badass too. 

Without thinking, Dean starts stripping, beyond curious to see the rest of himself. 

"What are you doing?" Sam asks, catching Dean's eyes through the glass.

Dean grins. Sam looks _shy,_ like they haven't seen each other naked a million times, like Dean didn't pound his sweet little ass into oblivion just last night. This is actually going to be fun. Dean trusts Bobby to come up with something, plus he's only got less than a year to live at this point. Honestly, the spell could have been a helluva lot worse, she could have turned them into lizards or something. Being a beautiful girl for a day doesn't seem that terrible at all anymore.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Dean says playfully, rucking his shirt up and over his head to expose his breasts. The amulet fits snugly between them.

Sam gasps and stares, his cheeks reddening like a switch went off. Dean's eyes light up as he cups himself, rolling them sensually, he hasn't played with a pair tits in ages. He notices his nipples are so much pinker, his thumbs brushing directly over them. They're hard and fully peaked before his brain can even understand what just happened. He can't help but groan out loud, rubbing them over and over. Dean likes to think his nipples are decently sensitive as a dude, he could probably get off just from Sammy sucking on them. But now he _knows_ he can. 

"Sammy, you gotta try this..."

Sam looks shellshocked, not moving a muscle. Dean practically squeals with delight when he remembers there's more to explore. Undoing his belt, he lets his pants drop to the ground. Stepping out of his shoes and kicking them away, he notices how low his boxers briefs are hanging. The only thing keeping them up is the new swell of his ass. He toys with the waistband, dragging it down painfully slow. Dean glances at Sam to make sure he's still watching, which he definitely is, poor kid looks ruined already.

"Gonna show you my pussy, Sammy," Dean purrs, letting the boxer briefs fall away. Sam snaps out of his trance and shuffles over, he's standing right behind Dean now, looking over his shoulder. He's still a little taller.

Dean feels an intense wave of arousal wash over him when he sees his fully naked form. He's so _smooth_ down there, his slit so enticing. There's still that slight pang of terror, his fucking penis is missing. But there's no denying that this is beyond hot.

Sam's eyes are dark as he greedily soaks in Dean's body, causing that pleasure wave to crash through him again. The feeling is so foreign, like his cock should be getting hard. Instead, he's-- fuck, he's getting _wet._

Dean wants to touch himself so badly, but he wants to see Sammy naked more. He turns around, purposely letting the tips of his breasts brush against Sam's front.

Sam whimpers and backs up, "Dean, you should-- I think maybe-- umm..."

Smiling wickedly, Dean ignores his stammering and orders, "Take your clothes off, baby boy. Or should I say, baby _girl._ "

"Don't, Dean, I'm n-not a girl," Sam stutters.

"Awe, Sam, don't tell me you're suddenly shy?"

"No, it's just that...we should focus on finding clothes and getting out of here. What if Bobby calls?" Sam babbles, tripping as he stumbles over to the closet.

"C'mon, where's my little slut? This isn't like you, sweetheart," Dean chides, invading his space. "I saw your little cock before you did, no hidin' from me, Sammy. Who do you think changed your diaper?" 

Sam rolls his eyes, "You're such a perv..."

"Mmm, maybe. Now take your clothes off."

Sam huffs and begins to unbutton his flannel, eyes never leaving Dean's. He's naked much faster than it took Dean, there's no show, just straight to business.

God fucking dammit Sam is gorgeous. Dean knows he still prefers him male, but that doesn't make this any less exciting. Sam's breasts are larger than his, he's curvier too. Creamy white skin, slightly plumper lips than he had before, even his lengthy hair is sexy. But Dean is obsessing over what's in between his little brother's legs now. He wants to do _everything_ to that pussy. 

Dean steps closer, his hands landing on Sam's tiny waist, traveling upwards. "Want me to touch you, baby?" Dean's voice sounds so silky now, not rugged, making it somehow dirtier.

Sam nods, all signs of fighting this erased, he's just as into it as Dean. Dean scoops his brother's ample breasts into his hands, massaging them and reveling in how pillowy they are. He doesn't think as he dips his face lower to take one of Sam's rose dusted nipples into his mouth. Sam whines and holds Dean's head in place, his small hand threading through Dean's hair. Dean sucks hard, his tongue laving the area thoroughly. 

"Dean!" Sam drags Dean away from his chest, bringing their mouths together. The way their tits press flat against one another is _amazing,_ the natural stimulation overwhelming.

Kissing feels strange at first, new lips, new tongue, yet Sam tastes the same. There's no stubble, nothing's chapped, just softness. The kiss is wetter than usual too, their inexperience making them sloppy and desperate. It's awesome.

Before long, they're panting roughly into each other's mouths. Dean feels frustrated by the dull ache coming from within his crotch. He wants to grind himself all over Sam, he just needs some _pressure._

Dean jumps when he hears his phone ring from across the room, still stowed away inside his discarded jeans. The repetitive jingle is so _annoying._ Whatever it is, it can't be more important than this.

"What if it's Bobby?" Sam pulls away to say. 

"Of course it's Bobby, nobody else ever calls us," Dean replies through gritted teeth. "We're far from done with this..." he adds, biting Sam's bottom lip before going to retrieve the phone.

"Hey, Bobby...anything? Uh, oh yeah, we found some clothes. Yep, figured, okay, thanks. Keep us updated." Dean hangs up and turns to Sam. "He's pretty sure we'll go back to normal if we kill the bitch."

"Pretty sure?" Sam laughs, sifting through the many pairs of jeans.

"Well, there's a chance she 'sealed' the spell, which means she'd have to reverse it before her death. Bobby wants us to talk to her first...try to make her change us back...before we, ya know, kill her..." Dean explains, joining an uneasy looking Sam over by the closet to check out the options.

"Huh? No creepy goth dresses or capes?" Dean says sarcastically, grabbing a black v-neck tee and throwing it on.

Since their arrival, Dean has been trying to avoid noticing how _normal_ everything looks. Bills on the counter, dishes in the sink from a home cooked meal, photos on the mantle. Photos with kids and dogs and friends. Not a shred of evidence points to 'a blood thirsty witch lives here!' But Dean keeps reminding himself that she's _killing_ people. Boring sense of fashion or not, she's a damn monster.

Sam rolls his eyes again and continues with, "Talk to her? That'll go well. Any idea where she is?" Sam wonders, finding a burgundy camisole and slipping it over his torso. 

It's skin tight on him and shows off _everything._ Dean manages to stop staring at Sam's perfect tits long enough to choke out, "She's heading west, Bobby traced her plates..."

Sam tosses Dean a pair of jeans, "Well, it's a start." Slipping on a pair of brown fluffy boots, Sam picks up the duffel bag full of weapons and head for the door.

Dean studies the shoe selection for a moment, black combat boots it is. Following his brother, Dean tries to convince himself that this is just like any other hunt. He still knows how to fight, still knows how to use literally any weapon put in front of him. Guy or girl, his body is still toned and muscular. He's still Dean Winchester and boy, does he still hate witches.

~

Dean's been driving for over eight hours and all he's thought about the entire time is when he's going to get the chance to eat out his brother's virgin pussy. He should be strategizing or planning an attack, but his brain seems incapable of any other topic. They receive regular updates from Bobby telling them where to go next, but Dean is too distracted to keep going.

"Sam, we gotta stop, I'm exhausted," he finally admits.

"Exhausted or horny?" Sam cracks back.

Dean stops zoning out at the blank highway and captures his brother's eyes. The moonlight is painted all over Sam's face in away that makes Dean's heart clench, he's so beautiful.

"Sammy, I can't stop thinking about fuckin' you like this."

Sam scoots closer and places a hand on Dean's lithe thigh. A little more awkward than normal, Sam rests his head on Dean's shoulder and says, "There's really not much time to stop though, Dean, we've been tailing her all day and still haven't caught up."

"Not much time..." Dean repeats sadly.

_Not much time left before a team of Hellhounds rip me to shreds and drag my soul down to the pit._

Sam understands what he means. It's always on their minds, festering in the background. Denial can only take a person so far, sooner or later time's going to run out. There's no point in not enjoying every precious second while they have it.

"Let's stop." Sam's voice is barely audible. 

Next rest stop they pass, Dean pulls over into the parking lot. They book a room, that to their surprise, isn't too filthy. Within minutes of putting their stuff down, Sam is all over him, ripping at his clothes, kissing and begging. 

"Dean, please," Sam whines, unzipping Dean's jeans, his impatience growing steadily.

Dean guides them both over towards the bed until the back of his knees hit the mattress. He slips off the thin spaghetti straps of Sam's tank to pull out his breasts. 

"Fuck, Sammy, these are perfect," Dean praises, gluing his mouth to Sam's left nipple. He works open Sam's pants as he sucks, hungrier than before.

"Dean, need more," Sam pants, removing the last of their clothing and shoving Dean onto the bed. 

Dean lands on his back, arms thrown loosely above his head and his legs kept squeezed shut. "C'mere, baby, sit on my face, been dying for it."

Sam's eyes don't know where to look, like he's trying to decide what part of this he wants to memorize most. He crawls up Dean's body, leaving a trail of kisses in his path. He ignores Dean's lower region, starting at his navel, that sweet mouth in absolutely no hurry.

Once Sam reaches Dean's chest, he teases the sensitive area relentlessly, kissing and licking everywhere but where Dean wants him most. Sam's hands run up his sides, those longer than usual nails giving him chills. Dean feels hyper aware, like his nerves are on fire, his temperature too hot.

"Sam," Dean warns, unable to control his squirming as his hips start to fuck up into nothing, searching for friction. His legs spread open of their own accord, Sam's body settling in between them nicely.

Dean cries out when Sam finally encompasses the center of his breast into his warm mouth. Rubbing circles on Sam's back, Dean moans, "Yeah, Sam, ahh..."

Sam nurses on him for what feels like forever, his rock hard buds blooming beneath his brother's tongue. Sam alternates his attention equally, his hand taking care of the nipple he's not suckling on. The pleasure from this is too much, Dean completely understands why chicks go crazy for it now.

Massaging Sam's scalp, Dean rambles, "Like this, Sammy? Like suckin' on your big brother's titties?" 

Sam let's out a high pitch moan in response, swirling his tongue faster. Eventually, Sam relinquishes him, leaving Dean red and puffy, _aching._

Dean realizes he's almost out of breath, this level of intensity is something he's never experienced before. "You're so good for me, baby...but I thought I told you...to sit on my face..."

Sam chuckles and changes position, his dripping cunt suddenly right in front of Dean's eager mouth. "Dean, I'm kinda nervous, I don't know what to expect." Sam grips the headboard for support, eyes watching his brother like a hawk.

"Shh, Sammy, don't worry, I'll take care of you..." Dean reassures him, planting his hands firmly on Sam's thighs. Dean noses the spot above Sam's slit, "Smell so fuckin' good...c'mon, baby girl, feed me your pussy..."

This time when Dean calls him 'baby girl', Sam doesn't protest. He shivers and does what he's told, lowering himself down into his brother's parted lips.

Dean starts slow, licking and kissing gently. The taste is unbelievable, inviting Dean to go deeper, to drink in more and more of him. Dean happily buries himself within his brother's folds, his face coated in Sam's juices. So fucking wet, so delicious.

"Fuckkkk, ohh, Dean!!! Wha--OH, FUCK!" Sam's a mess, his muscles relaxing as the pleasure courses through him.

Dean's hands curl around the back of Sam's plump ass, pinching his cheeks and pulling him closer. Dean laps at Sam's clit rhythmically, building up a pattern that makes him throb and gush. 

The only thing keeping Dean attached to this plain of existence is Sam's voice. He's practically crying above him, wailing a litany of "Dean, Dean, fuck, Dean!"

His right hand drunk with power, he hooks a finger inside Sam's opening, his tongue never stopping its assault. Sam yips and rolls his hips. "Shit! More, Dean, I can take more."

As the words are leaving his lips, Dean's adding a second finger. Sam starts gyrating more liberally, fucking himself on Dean's drenched fingers and face.

"DEAN!" Sam screams as he comes, his sweet release flowing down and into Dean's mouth. Sam pulls on the headboard so violently it cracks as he rides out the end of his orgasm.

"Okay, okay, oh my god, wow..." Sam pants, lifting off Dean and collapsing next to him. 

Dean smiles and wipes his mouth off a little. Immediately after, he's kissing Sam, sharing his flavor with him and pressing their bodies closer.

"That was so hot," Dean tells him.

"That was _crazy_ , Dean, I broke the bed!" 

Dean feels proud as they laugh together, their girly giggles making them laugh harder. Calming down, Sam bats his lashes and breathes out, "I wanna taste you now."

Dean changes modes from silly to 'fuck me' in less than a millisecond. "Yeah, baby, m'all yours..."

Resting his head back on the pillow, Dean spreads his legs again. He knows he's not going to last, he's never been this turned on in his life and that's saying something, because he's edged himself pretty professionally in the past.

Sam's down there in a heart beat, staring at Dean's most intimate part with hooded eyes.

"How much pussy have you eaten, baby doll?" Dean asks, thumbing at Sam's bottom lip affectionately.

It's something they don't talk about much, too much jealousy, too much time wasted. As soon as they worked out their shit, they never looked back, never talked about any past relationships or partners. But now Dean's wondering and the false innocence behind the question has Sam answering, "Just Jess..."

His sweet little brother, so faithful, so pure, always such a good boy growing up. It's never been a competition with Jess, but Dean quivers at the thought of being able to share even _this_ with Sam, of being able to give Sam everything that he is.

"Sammy."

Sam eases into him, his mouth moving as if he's kissing Dean. Eyes closed, Sam moans around Dean's clit, eating him out so fucking lovingly. That dangerous heat pumping throughout Dean's veins is increasing, he's already so close to losing it. Tangling his hands in Sam's mussed up hair, Dean pushes and pulls his head to his liking. Sam loves being used and Dean loves using him. 

"Sammy, Sam--!" Dean gasps as he feels his muscles contracting spastically, experiencing pleasure beyond comprehension. The pinnacle of everything good with the world seems to erupt from that one special spot and zaps throughout the rest of him like a live wire. And it keeps going and going, like a nonstop tidal wave of ecstasy. Sam's fingers bruise marks into his thighs, he must have tensed up when he felt Dean come.

"Jesus Christ, Sam, what the fuck..." Dean let's out a laugh that expels the rest of his pent up energy.

Sam comes up for air, peeking at Dean with a hazy expression. "I could go again, like right now...I'm not even tired..." Sam revels.

"Fuck yeah," Dean agrees.

Dean wishes he had his cock right now. He can't think of anything better than sticking it inside Sammy's slick, fucked out pussy. Oh, well, Dean can totally still fuck him, with or without his dick.

"On your back, sweetheart," Dean commands, his voice is powder soft, but no less intimidating.

Sam maneuvers himself into the desired position, awaiting Dean's prowess, ready for anything he has planned. Hooking his leg over Sam's, Dean slides all the way towards him until their cunts meld into one. Unprepared for how good this feels, Dean's breath catches in his throat. 

Everything's damp and dirty in the sexiest way possible. Dean feels Sam leaking all over him, their wetness soaking into one another. Sam bucks his hips forward, hinting for Dean to move, to fuck him. So Dean does, he rocks his pussy against Sam's, moaning and grabbing at his tits. Sam props himself up on his elbows and meets every single one of Dean's thrusts with equal strength. Their clits bump together, mercilessly rubbing, coaxing out their second orgasms.

"Fuck! Sammy!"

"Deeeean!" He shouts, throwing his head back.

Dean's seeing stars when he feels his come flood into Sam's body, he didn't think it would be like this. It's just as intimate as coming inside him with his cock, maybe even more so.

"Don't stop," Sam begs, his beautiful eyes tearing apart Dean's soul. "Wanna come again..."

"Yeah, yeah, baby, yeah," Dean keeps going, fucking him harder, going for round three.

Dean leans over, plunging his tongue into Sam's mouth and kissing him breathless.

"I love you, Sammy, love you so much, come for me again, baby..." Dean shoves himself further against Sam, bringing them both back to the edge.

"Dean, I love you too," Sam whimpers as he shivers through his climax.

This third time is exhausting, borderline brain shattering. Dean nearly sobs as he comes, his body giving out and tumbling on top of Sam with all his weight. 

They continue kissing lazily, completely sated and covered in each other. Eventually, they shift onto their sides, neither one never letting go of the other. Dean could give a fuck about cleaning up right now. All that matters is that Sam is tucked safely inside his arms, their heart beats bleeding into a singular rhythm. Blankets covering them, sleep comes easy that night.

~

Dean's impressed, this witch is clever. She covers her tracks and thinks ahead. It takes them three more days to find her, but they find her. The novelty of being female has certainly started to wear off, Dean's ready to change back. 

The Impala's windows are cracked open halfway and the summer night air is humid. After one of the most riveting hunts they've been on in a while, it comes to an almost anticlimactic end. It's as if she's given up.

Sam and Dean stake out the front of the dilapidated motel she's found sanctuary in. Although it's most likely a trap and she knows they're out there, the boys are still safe while concealed in the parking lot. A lot weighs on their success, if they can't convince her to change them back, they'll have to take a chance. If Dean's only got a handful of months left, he wants to spend them as _him._ He wants to go down fighting in this world as the man he was born into it as. 

"You ready?" Sam asks, side eyeing his brother with concern.

Dean doesn't answer with words. Leaning in, he places a chaste kiss on Sam's lips. _Good luck..._

As they make their approach, there's that sinking feeling in Dean's stomach that won't go away. He can't shake the feeling that things aren't what they seem with this witch. Guns loaded with witch killing bullets, Sam and Dean kick down the door to her room. The dry rot in the wood eases the process. 

What's more annoying than one witch? _Two witches._ But for some reason, the new witch has been incapacitated by the original witch. This second one looks younger than the other, and definitely crazier. Presumably bound by magic, the girl is actively struggling to break free of her invisible chains. Sitting in an old wooden chair, her eyes are bulging slightly and she's all sweaty. She reminds Dean of an addict. 

"Nice clothes," the familiar witch scoffs, referencing their stolen attire.

"Shut up," Dean barks, his voice intimidating.

She tries to fight them at first, but within seconds, she's at their mercy, dropping to her knees with tears in her big brown eyes. Her gaunt face is contorted with desperation.

"Please, just listen." Her voice is hoarse, like she's been screaming a lot. She looks ragged, broken. 

Sam and Dean exchange glances before proceeding to give her their full attention. Apparently, _she_ wants to talk to _them._

"I knew you wouldn't stop, you hunters are relentless," she coughs on the last word. "She's my _sister,_ I won't let you hurt her..."

"We weren't after her, we--" Dean stops himself, suddenly realizing what's going on. 

"You've been protecting her..." Sam says for him. "She's the one that's killing people."

"Yes...but she didn't mean to, she's not in her right mind. I tried my hardest but, I failed," She's crying softly, the giant tears staining tracks all the way down to her neck. She doesn't bother wiping them away. "I failed her..."

Dean reevaluates the restrained witch, he can tell she's her sister now. He notices that her mouth keeps twitching, most likely a spell preventing her from speaking. Sweating through her shirt, the young witch jerks her body violently. 

"What do you mean not in her right mind? What's wrong with her?" Sam asks, not lowering his weapon.

"We didn't want this life...our mother, she _persuaded_ us to follow in her footsteps. Taught us everything she knew about witchcraft and then she...died. My sister, she's just lost her way. Magic can be...addicting. But I can save her...I know I can. She needs to detox, then she'll be fine..." the girl explains with great effort. 

This knowledge is _heavy_ and hits Dean right where he's weakest. This is why Dean doesn't talk to monsters. There's a always a story, always an excuse. He should pull the fucking trigger on principle, but he can't.

Dean thinks about how certain unavoidable circumstances dragged him and Sammy into a life they didn't want. Always harping on what could have been. He knows that if it were Sam in that chair, Dean would be the one on his knees, near death, begging for a second chance. No matter what Sam did, Dean would protect him, save him. Looking over to his brother, Dean can see the gears turning in Sam's head. He's thinking the exact same thing.

"You won't be able to kill her without killing me first, my protection spell will block your bullets. You won't even be able to stand within five feet of her...I can make sure you never see us again. But if I'm wrong, you have my word I won't stop you from doing your job. That's a promise." She whispers, eyes bouncing back and forth between the brothers. She hisses something in Latin after her speech, "The spell is lifted, one more sleep cycle and you'll both be male again. I'm sorry I cursed you, but it was the first thing that popped into my head that wasn't lethal." 

Dean wants to let them live. Maybe they're both professional con artists that researched Sam and Dean's background to concoct a story that will specifically tug at their vulnerability. 

Maybe it's just the truth.

Dean hears Sam click his gun's safety back on, the weapon now aiming down at the ground. Sam trusts her and Dean trusts Sam. So Dean lowers his gun too.

Tucking the gun away completely, Sam extends his hand out to the girl. Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, scared that it's a trick. She decides to trust them too, reaching for Sam's hand and allowing him to help her to her feet. Sam walks her over to the edge of the bed so she can sit.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean," Sam says, sitting next to her.

Dean is watching them interact with daggers in his eyes. Let her try something. 

"You're brothers?" She acts surprised. "I thought--it doesn't matter. My name's Brenda and she's Charlotte," motioning her head towards her sister.

Dean stays silent, wondering what Sam is getting at. He doesn't want to play nice with the witches, he wants to leave this shit hole and grab dinner.

"My brother's soul is marked for Hell, the Hellhounds are coming...soon," Sam tells her, trying to sound calm and keep the anxiety at bay.

"Sam--" Dean cuts in.

"Can you help him?" Sam blurts out. 

The witch-- _Brenda_ \-- looks horrified. Another tear slips out, joining the small pool that's formed in the dip of her collar bone. "You sold your soul?"

Dean feels the judgement in her eyes, "Yeah, I did, for him..."

Brenda looks back to Sam, her expression heartbroken. Sam remains stone faced, waiting to hear the answer he doesn't want.

"That-- that kind of magic isn't my jurisdiction," she sniffs, wiping her nose. "Even at full strength, I wouldn't know where to begin." 

Genuine disappointment clouds the air, even Dean couldn't stop the unwanted flutter of hope that sparked inside him at Sam's plead.

"Sammy..." _Let's go._

Sam takes a deep breath and nods his head curtly, before letting out a girly yelp of surprise at Brenda's advance. She's _hugging_ him. "I'm sorry. I truly hope you find a way to save him."

Over her shoulder Sam stares at Dean, "I will."

~

Heading for Souix Falls, Sam and Dean don't talk much. Too much tension that will inevitably lead to a fight they're both too tired to have. Again.

Dean thinks about their recent encounter, praying he doesn't regret letting them go. If Brenda fails, the innocent blood of all the people her sister murders will be on _his_ hands. He should be used to this feeling of self loathing by now, fucking up his and the lives of others one dumb decision at a time.

Dean deserves to go to Hell. 

He turns up the radio to distract himself with some Zeppelin. Sam immediately turns it back down. Dean's about to explode on him, when he sees Sam's smile. As if his little brother can hear the dark thoughts and physically feel Dean's self hated, he comes to his rescue. 

"Bobby's house'll be there tomorrow, let's stop," Sam says, snapping the strap of his tank top suggestively. "Dean, we still have tonight..."

_Fuck yeah._

Like a dog in heat, Dean's onboard. No better way to drown himself, than inside Sammy's perfect goddamn pussy. Stepping on the gas, he repeats with a smile of his own, "We still have tonight."


End file.
